2014.07.04: Ashes and Dreams

Ashes and Dreams
Two 'civilized' vampires have a conversation where a servitor is introduced.
IC Date	July 4, 2014
IC Time	Night
Players	Madeline, Blackwell, Gar
Location	Ashes to Ashes
Prp/Tp	=
Spheres

Ashes To Ashes - Main Room

The inside rooms of this club are shadowy and dark. The lights are low and the glow of firelight reflects against the walls. Some of the flicker of firelight is the actual fireplace in the main room, the shield over the front a thermal barrier to heat during the hot summer months. The rest of the flicker is from electric wall sconces made to look like fire. The furnishings are all dark, the couches and chairs real leather in dark earthy colors. The carpet is unbelievably plush and almost begs to take your shoes off and curl your toes into it. There's a bar at the far end, discrete and rather small so that it is not the focus of the entire room. Small alcoves have been cordoned off for more private discussions, with soundproof walls between them. There's a poker table, for those who like a bit of a sport with their cigar and brandy and a staff of elegantly dressed waiters and waitresses going from table to table to offer cigars, cigarettes and drinks to anyone who would like one.

Madeline is at the bar, leaning back against it in a rather sensual yet casual pose, sipping lightly at a glass of wine as a musician plays guitar in the corner.

Evening in the city of false hope. Like many other nights, the Ash club is plodding through the evening at a comfortably slow pace. The opening of the door would seem to be an all-too unfamiliar sound as not many enter or leave it would seem. The signature click-drag of a walking stick can be heard as the pale form of Lord Blackwell makes his subtle entrance. Veiled to ensure that his true form is not seen by mortals, he's wearing the fleshy mask of his former self though his long, blonde-white hair remains. Dressed in old world finery, he walks with the casual grace of a fencer who has faught everyone in the salon and learned their tells. The music slides across his attention for a moment while he and his escourt find a space at the shadowy alcove. Only once seated, for it would seem as though he does not enjoy standing, does he turn towards those gathered and offer his nods and acknowledgements of their presence.

Madeline is at the bar, leaning back against it in a rather sensual yet casual pose, sipping lightly at a glass of wine as a musician plays guitar in the corner. She turns her sapphire eyes to Blackwell when he enters and nods to him in greeting

Gar walks into the main room form the back area. He is in his works clothes a nice business casual outfit. He notices Madeline ant the bar and gives her a bow, "Good evening Ms. Blanchard, I hope oyu are enjoying yourself here this evening."

Madeline looks over and her smile warms instantly "Gar, how good to see you again monseiur, I wasn't sure you still worked here or not.

Blackwell was seemingly ready to begin some manner of conversation - or at least vocalize his greeting to the woman at the bar when the moment was lost to the apparent employee. Talking to the help? How...pedestrian. For now, he leans back into his seat and rests his right hand upon the silver pommel of his walking stick, a signet ring accenting the index finger. Oh...she knows his name too? She is -such- a...compassionate person. His eyes roll at her social contact and he waits for an opening or a distraction.

Gar smiles to Madeline, "Well I do but I tend ot take a less hands on approach to things these days, the club runs itself and I handle the ofice work during hte day." he smiles, "at least until classes start up again in the fall."

Madeline inclines her head to the young man with a smile "Arya is lucky to have you Gar, in any capacity" she says then nods to Blackwell "bon soir Monseiur"

A student? The pale-skinned man's eyebrow raises in question, watching him curiously - seeking distraction while he waits. Oh, he's probably one of those Historians he likes to laugh at or worse...an Archaeologist that likes to poke about with mommies. As he is addressed, he bows his head politely and double-taps his walking stick's point upon the floor as if it was an acknowledgement to her. "Mum..." Yup, he's British, the accent is hard to conceal even with but a single word.

Gar smilesto Madeline, "Well you are most kind to say so." he then loksover at the gentleman, "Welcome to Ashes to Ashes, we hope you enjoy your visit."

The musician in the corner ends one song and continues on his set, his fingers moving skillfully across the strings of his guitar.

"We?" Blackwell asks in a low, inquisitive tone. His eyes, penetratingly focused, do their best not to burn holes in that upon which his gaze falls but even when he speaks there's a tendency to look at the person to which you have asked a question. Content to leave the question hang in the air as long as it takes, he folds one leg over the other to break up the moments of silence.

Madeline sips her wine with a smile "Oui Monseiur, Gar works here and as such speaks for the staff.

Gar nods, 'Yes it was not the royal we." He grins, "Nor do I have a mouse in my pocket as my Meema would say."

"Ah," the pale gentlemen responds. "And who is his...employer?" His frame doesn't move much as he speaks - aside from the faint inhale of breath to allow sound in exhalation. Idly he fingers the silver pommel of his walking stick, rubbing the padd of one of his fingers against the detail's carved into the metal.

Madeline sips her wine and smiles "my dear friend Arya of course" she looks about the place in admiration "Arya built this from the ground up as it were and has done quite well"

Gar nods and smiles, "Ms. Blanchard is correct." He smiles, "I have worked for her since the orginal site." he then says, "We have moved a couple of instances but This has been a good location so far.

Blackwell glances down to the tables as though he -just- realized that they were covered with something of an oily film. Wiping the pads of his fingers across the surface and frowning a bit at some imagined stain, he looks around the place with a new expression; judging. "I...see," he explains and stands from the table where he was seated. "Carson," he begins - addressing his guard, "...make sure that Jeffery is handling the delivery. I don't want any to escape before we return." Turning his attention back to Madeline, he nods his head slightly while heading for the door. "Evening Mum..."